


Batman Bandaids

by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abortion, Accidental Pregnancy, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Stiles Stilinski, this story is not a bummer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/twothumbsandnostakeincanon
Summary: “Ugh. Ughhhh. Ughhhhhhhh.”Peter raised an eyebrow.“Everything alright, darling?”“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636204
Comments: 31
Kudos: 821





	Batman Bandaids

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you're reading this on a paid subscription app, did you know that you can read it for free on archiveofourown.org? You can search for my username or the story title. I write these for free, to be read for free, and any app developers who profit off the back of that should know that deepthroating the boot of capitalism comes with an increased risk of guillotine related illness. They do not have my permission to host this story.

“Ugh. Ughhhh. Ughhhhhhhh.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright, darling?”

_“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.”_

Chris turned to look over too. 

“Sweetheart?”

Stiles rolled over on the couch, revealing a distinctly queasy face. 

“I’m never going to be done with this flu. I’m going to be sick _forever.”_

Peter’s brow furrowed more deeply, reaching up to rub at Stiles’ feet as Chris came to crouch by Stiles’ head to check his temperature. 

“I thought you were feeling better,” Chris said, a question in his voice.

“I was, for most of the day, but just like the last few nights, as soon as I finished eating dinner it was like Kill Bill sirens going off in my stomach.” Stiles reached up to rub his eyes. “I’m still so fucking tired, too. Peter give me the bite so I don’t have the flu anymore.” 

“I can’t,” Peter said as he focused on pressure points that would hopefully help. “I’m not an Alpha and you said I’m not allowed to murder for power without getting permission first.” 

“I give you permission. I give you permission to murder anyone you want if it means I won’t feel like barfing anymore.” 

“As co-leader of the permission board, I’m pulling your authority to give permission,” Chris said, running a soothing hand through Stiles’ hair. 

“Based on what?” Stiles replied, trying to sound indignant despite lacking the energy to make it work.

“Altered state of mind due to illness.”

_“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”_

A few minutes later, Stiles gave in and just went to bed early, declaring his body to be, “Too full of shit fuck and bastard to be conscious.”

Peter and Chris heard the bedroom door close from the living room. Chris glanced at Peter, finding his expression tense. 

“He’s been pretty nauseous for the last week,” Chris said quietly. “More tired too.” 

Peter looked back at him, lips pursed. 

“He’s been saying that he thinks he needs a new binder too, because his chest hurts lately.” 

They both looked at each other, silent for a few moments. 

“How many times did he get up to pee during dinner?” Chris asked, even though they both knew the answer.” 

Peter swore under his breath and then got up, grabbing his keys. 

“Clearblue?” he suggested.

“Early Response,” Chris countered. “I think he’s still a couple days off from a missed period.” 

Peter swore again and then left the house. 

* * *

Stiles took the stick into the bathroom the next morning with an eye roll. 

“It’s just the flu you guys. You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Just humor us, baby,” Chris said, chivying him into the en suite. 

Five minutes later, Stiles walked out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. 

“Two lines means not pregnant, right?”

That was Not Right. 

Stiles sat in the middle of their king sized bed, stunned. Chris was on the phone, rescheduling all his meetings for the day, and Peter was making a list of every cure for morning sickness (or in Stiles’ case, evening sickness) that he could find. Eventually Chris finished and hung up, bringing the motion and sound of the room to a standstill. 

Everyone looked at each other silently for a moment. 

“Oh goddamnit,” Stiles burst out, hopping off the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom again. “I haven’t even had anything to drink yet today!” 

Chris sat on the bed with a huff as they waited for Stiles to finish. He and Peter eyed each other warily, both unsure of how to begin the conversation.

Once Stiles came back, he climbed back up on the bed between his two boyfriends and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together. 

“So! There is… an embryo. Living in me. Living a little embryonic life. It’s already been a zygote, a morula, and a blastocyst. I think there are some other stages between that and embryo, but you’ll have to forgive my lapse in memory, because apparently I’m _fucking pregnant oh my god.”_

Chris and Peter both reached over to hug him, ending up with everyone dragged down into a cuddle pile in the middle of the bed. Stiles was breathing a little too quickly for comfort, but he wasn’t shaking and he wasn’t crying- just repeating _oh my god oh shit oh my god_ under his breath as he tried to calm down. 

“How do we even figure out whose it is?” Stiles wondered out loud. 

“Does… that matter?” Peter asked slowly. 

Stiles shrugged as wildly as he could while pressed between the two others. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before! I don’t know anything! I don’t-” He bit his tongue, cutting off any more words for a moment before he continued. “I feel like… what happens next isn’t just my decision, is it? Whoever- whoever’s sperm won the marathon should have like. Some input. Right?”

Chris cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Well. It’s your body. Even though one of us, uh…”

“Knocked you up,” Peter supplied helpfully. 

“-Well, yes. Even though one of us did that, it’s still going to be your uterus, and your morning sickness, and your possible gestational issues, and your possible dysphoria, and your labor and delivery-”

“Yeah, yes, _alright,”_ Stiles cut him off, breathing a little faster again. 

Chris spoke more quietly as he said, “It’s about whether you want to be pregnant, or do any of the things that come after pregnancy, Stiles.”

“I don’t,” Stiles blurted. 

It was like the balloon of tension in the room had been popped. 

Everyone sighed in relief. 

“I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want kids. Not right now, maybe not ever? I don’t know, but I definitely don’t want this right now.” 

“Oh thank God,” Peter said. “I don’t either.”

Chris leaned forward and kissed Stiles on his forehead. 

“Then we’ll support you.” 

“What about you?” Stiles asked nervously. 

“What about me?” Chris asked back, eyebrow raised. 

Stiles rolled onto his side so that Peter was draped over his back, peering over his shoulder to look at Chris too. 

“Well,” he said. “Of the three of us, you’re the only one with real parenthood experience. Do you… I don’t want to make it sound like I’m suggesting a replacement daughter, but is that something you want to do again someday? Is it something you think about?”

Chris was silent for a moment, not really looking at anything as he tried to organize his heart into thoughts. 

“Being a father was the most important thing in my life,” he eventually said. “Which is exactly why I’m sure that if you don’t want to be one, then you shouldn’t be one. If I _did_ have another child, I would love that one as much as I loved Allison- but it’s not something I’m looking for. It’s not something I need. It’s an idea that scares the shit out of me, if I’m being honest.” Stiles sagged in relief, and Chris’ eyes crinkled in a smile as he leaned forward to kiss his forehead again. “We’re all fine, Stiles. Everything is going to be fine.” 

Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand as he wiggled forward, bringing him with him to condense their snuggle sandwich closer to Chris. 

“I guess I’ll call Planned Parenthood then,” Stiles mumbled into Chris’ chest as Peter quietly rumbled at his back. 

“The one you went to when you were looking into hormone therapy?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, they’re chill, and I think they do in-clinc abortions on Wednesdays. Or like, every other Wednesday? Maybe one Wednesday a month?” 

They called, and scheduled the procedure for the first available appointment in three weeks. 

(On a Friday.)

They used the rest of their morning to cuddle, and plan what Stiles was calling “Yeet the Embryo Day.” 

It wasn’t until they got up for lunch that Peter said, “Technically, you were right last night.”

A crease appeared in Stiles’ forehead. 

“Right about what?”

“We’re not married. Your body _is_ full of bastard.” 

* * *

Three weeks later, Stiles was propped on the couch with his head in Peter’s lap, feet in Chris’ lap, and a heating pad on his own lap. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” Peter asked, stroking the skin on Stiles’ neck as he drew some of the pain away. “I can’t help too much otherwise we might miss the signs of complications.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, voice a little drowsy. “I’m okay anyway. My cramps aren’t too bad. Honestly,” he continued with a pointed look at Chris, “my hip hurts more than anything else.” 

Chris rolled his eyes with a crooked smile. 

“I apologize, _again,_ for my blood type.”

“Whatever, Mr. Rh positive,” Stiles shot back. “We were almost out of there. The procedure was over! But noooo, _someone_ had to bring up that I’m O _negative-”_

“I’m O negative too,” Peter said smugly, happy to be on the “not my fault” side of things. 

“Exactly!” Stiles exclaimed. “You might have been the one that got me pregnant! We don’t even know that the embryo had Chris’ weird little supply of A positive blood-” 

“Stiles, you said yourself that you don’t know whether or not you want to have kids someday,” Chris reminded him. “The RhoGAM just prevents your body from automatically attacking any future embryos, okay? Just in case.” 

“They let a nursing student give me the shot, Chris.” 

“You could have said no.” 

“I didn’t want to be rude!” 

Chris just leaned over to give him a kiss.

“What if we replace the boring bandaid with a Batman one after your shower?” 

Stiles immediately brightened up. 

“Yeah! God. It’s so good we’re not having a baby. More Batman bandaids for _me.”_


End file.
